Second Nature
by xx-coffeeclouds
Summary: Hermione really knows Harry. Perhaps even better than he knows himself.


**A/N:**Originally submitted to LJ's harmonic-erotic community. Enjoy!

* * *

"There's been another attack," Hermione announced from behind the paper. "A family in Liverpool." She laid the newspaper out on the table, Harry and Ron gathering in close to read the article as well. 

Harry snorted. "The Ministry is finally taking a notice to these things, aren't they?" he said derisively. He turned around and busied himself making toast. "It's about time." He jammed the pieces of bread violently into the toaster. "We _only_ have been able to find two Horcruxes within that time."

Hermione pursed her lips and proceeded to folding up the newspaper. She made eye contact with Ron behind Harry's back, and they both shrugged.

"What time is Lupin coming?" Harry asked, his voice loud and harsh.

"Around two," Ron said, hesitating under Harry's foul mood. He made eye contact with Hermione again. She shook her head. Ron cleared his throat. "Tonks and Kingsley should be coming with him as well. They're going to train us a bit more and–" Ron started as the toast popped out, Harry aggressively grabbing them and putting them onto his plate, "– and they say they have news."

Both Ron and Hermione visibly saw Harry tense up.

"News about what?" he asked coldly, not turning around to face them.

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times, floundering at the level of tension and gloom in the air.

"News about the Order," Hermione jumped in.

Harry finally turned around, his face stony and his eyes icy. "You mean what's left of it." He brushed past the two of them. "I'm eating upstairs." Ron and Hermione watched him leave as the sound of thundering footsteps and finally a slamming door woke up Mrs. Black's portrait.

"HORRID MUDBLOODS! SOILING THE MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! TRAITORS OF THE WIZARDING WORLD, SCUM OF THE EARTH, BREEDERS OF ABNOR–"

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard it all already," Ron grunted as he and Hermione struggled to pull the curtains shut.

* * *

The creaking floorboards announced her presence. Hermione gently made her way to him, settling a tray on the floor next to him. 

"I thought you might still be hungry . . . you only had two pieces of toast," she said. He didn't move. "I-I made you some oatmeal," she tried again. "Albeit, it's not the best . . . it took me ages to find a suitable pot to cook it in, but I was never a fan for oatmeal anyway. My mum just told me that it's good for you." Hermione hesitated on staying, shuffling slightly on her feet. Reaching a decision, she sat down on the floor behind Harry. "It really is quite nutritious!" she continued. "It's bound to help . . . what with all the training. We also don't know when we're going to be out hunting again, and you know food is hard to come by when we're out like that." Hermione stared at Harry. He seemed to have his gaze fixed on a spot on the wall. Following his line of sight, Hermione saw nothing spectacular, just some gaping holes in the wood of the house, allowing some sunlight to filter through. "You know, oatmeal–"

"Thanks, Hermione, you can just leave it there. I'll eat the oatmeal later," he said, interrupting her next ramble.

Hermione closed her mouth, her lips thinning. "Harry," she began, but Harry beat her to it.

"Look. I'm sorry at how I acted earlier, all right?" he said, sighing in frustration. "It's just– I think–" He roughly ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I think right now."

Hermione inched a bit closer to him, her hands resting upon her crossed legs. "You're frustrated," she said simply. He turned to look at her. "You're frustrated because we haven't made any breakthrough on the next Horcrux in a long time. The thought of restoring the Order tortures you because . . . Dumbledore isn't around anymore. You–we– don't know who to trust. We're taking these next steps completely blind." Harry looked away from her. "You're scared that there isn't much time left."

"How do you do that?" he asked, half in amazement, half in defeated despair.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. She got up, the floor creaking. Dusting off her shorts she said, "Maybe it's because it's you . . . and I know you." She walked out of the room, oblivious to the way Harry stared after her.

* * *

Hermione reached over to lift up a large, heavy tome to retrieve some more parchment. She didn't see the inkpot topple over and ruin the notes she was currently working on. Cursing under her breath, Hermione whipped out her wand and cleared the mess, noting in satisfaction that nothing too important got lost. Her notes were getting quite lengthy. While some might view that as successful progress, Hermione doubted that what she wrote down told them very much concerning the location of the next Horcrux. It felt like they were stuck in a rut. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. 

"Hermione?"

She opened her eyes to see Harry, poking his head shyly from behind her door.

"Oh, Harry?" she said, confused as to why he was there. "What is it?" He approached the desk she was working at, helping her clear some things off the seat next to her.

Harry regarded the mountain of books and parchment on the desk, the reading and writing materials expanding across it and even spilling onto her bed. "Wow," was all he said.

Hermione scoffed. "Wow indeed. All of this and nothing that can possibly help us." She threw her quill down. "I'm working as fast as I can," she mumbled, thinking Harry couldn't hear her.

A surge of guilt passed through Harry's body as he observed how dejected Hermione looked at that moment. She was doing all of this for him . . . nobody asked her to be a part of this. He wanted to say that she didn't need to do all of this, that she could back out now if she wanted to, but he knew that she would take none of it.

"What's wrong, Harry? Why are you up this late?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in concern. It was the mandatory question they all asked each other. They all knew that no one got much sleep these days.

"I was just thinking," Harry said. "About what you said this morning."

Hermione's lips twitched slightly. "About the oatmeal?"

Harry let out a short laugh. "No, not about the oatmeal." He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes. They were so soft and warm, illuminated by the glow of all the candles in the room. "You just got me thinking is all. How well you really do know me." He quirked a tiny smile. "It may seem like a stupid thing to say, but . . . I really appreciate that, Hermione . . . that someone can know me so well. Possibly even better than I know myself."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She felt touched. "Oh, well," she said, flustered as she gathered pieces of parchment together and straightened them out on the table. "There's no need to thank me for that. Really, at this point, it's like second nature to me." She smiled. Suddenly, she felt her hand go up and cup Harry's cheek, although she didn't realize it did that until after her fingers were grazing his face.

Harry stilled at the contact, unsure of what to do, how to respond, but staring into Hermione's face, something in her eyes and something in the air–

He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

All around them the scent of wax and burning candles wafted in the air, but it wasn't as strong as the smell of each other. Harry found that he quite liked the smell that he can only describe as distinctly _Hermione_ . . . to him, there was no need to explain it. He opened his mouth a little bit, his tongue grazing her lips and running along the seam. She responded by opening her mouth as well, allowing her tongue to tentatively make contact with his.

Her hand was still upon his face, bringing his head closer. She found that she really loved the feel of his hair between her fingers, then she realized that she had no clue when her hand had ended up there. The chairs between them creaked as Harry got off his to stand over Hermione, his hands upon her hips.

Hermione pulled back breathlessly, looking up into Harry's swirling, green eyes. "What–" she gasped, "– what exactly are we doing?"

Her question harshly broke through the fog forming in Harry's mind, feelings of doubt and fear finally coming through. He wanted to ask her if she thought what they were doing was wrong, if they should stop, but was interrupted by her arms encircling his neck, bringing his head down to kiss her once more.

That's when all thoughts flew out the window entirely.

Hermione got up from her chair, still maintaining contact with Harry's lips, and proceeded to drag him over to the bed. She could slightly hear her mind screaming and yelling at her to stop, that things were moving way too fast, but once Harry moved his head to kiss her neck, she blocked them out.

Knees hitting the bed, Hermione tumbled back onto it, pulling Harry with her. It was oddly comforting having his full weight on top of her. She tilted her neck further to the side to grant him access to the flesh just before her shoulder. She moaned as she felt his tongue run along the right spot.

The panting and moaning Hermione was making was driving Harry crazy. He would have never predicted that all of this would have happened when he came into her room. He would never have imagined that kissing Hermione _like this_ could turn him on so much. Sucking on the spot on her neck that she seemed to enjoy so much, Harry snaked his hands underneath her shirt to run along the hot skin of her stomach. He moved his hand up and down her skin, feeling goose pimples rise as her shirt rode up and exposed it.

Harry's hand was quite cool against her. Hermione could feel herself burning . . . for him. Pushing him off slightly, a look of confusion donned his face but immediately disappeared as Hermione pulled off her shirt in a swift movement. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving. Harry looked down at her, gaping. Tentatively his hand ran up her entire side, slipping underneath her bra strap and slowly sliding it down her arm. He kissed her newly exposed skin, suddenly gentle as the direction to where they were going made itself clear.

Hermione relished in his attention to her, running her hands along his back. One of his hands was now running along her thigh, the fabric from her pyjama bottoms an unwanted shield between the feel of Harry's hands on more of her skin.

He didn't think that he could ever tire of pleasing her. Every inch that he had tasted of her tasted _so good_. Harry quickly shed his own shirt, immediately bringing Hermione's body flush against his. She straddled him, legs wrapping around his waist, as he remained seated on the bed. Reaching behind her back, Hermione undid the clasp of her bra, throwing the now useless garment to the side. The feel of their chests touching each other, skin on skin, sent lightening bolts through their bodies. Both of them moaned into each other's mouths.

The feel of her pressing into him, the feel of his hands upon her bare back, Harry didn't think he had ever been harder in his life. His hands clutched her, pulling her even more against him so she could feel exactly what it was she had done to him.

"Harry," she whispered against his lips, the way she said it his final undoing.

He gently pushed her back onto the bed, sweeping his arm out to rid the bed of parchment and quills. Running his hands down her entire body, his fingers danced along the hem of her bottoms, slipping underneath experimentally, then finally pulling them off entirely. He kissed his way down, stopping at her breasts to lick and suckle her hardened nipples. Hermione gasped, chanting his name again. She clutched at his back, his hair, the bedspread, helpless.

His fingers had made their way underneath her knickers. He found that she was extremely hot and wet, and the mere thought of being inside her _like that_ almost made him burst. He had no clue what he was doing, but judging from the way she was clutching at the bedspread, her knuckles turning white and the sounds she was making, he was doing something right.

"Harry," she said desperately, opening her eyes to find him staring down at her as his fingers slipped in and out of her. They made eye contact, their gazes heated and intense. Hermione reached out to pull Harry's head down. When he was close enough, she whispered, "I want you inside of me."

Harry didn't think he ever made it out of his pants faster than at that moment. Her whisper, her breath tickling his ear, asking– no telling– _him_ to be inside of her.

Hermione had shed her knickers, opening her legs so that he could settle in between them.

Harry found that he was sweating profusely. He rubbed his tip along her folds, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head at the sheer pleasure of it all.

"Harry," Hermione said, the tone in her voice decidedly different from when she said his name moments before. "J-Just go slow, all right?"

He nodded, leaning down to kiss her tenderly on the mouth and brush some hair out of her face. He looked down in between them, seeing their almost joined bodies.

"I-I've never done this before," he said in a husky whisper.

"I'll guide you," Hermione said, kissing his cheek.

She reached down between them, her hand closing around him. Gently, she guided him to her entrance, prompting him slightly by wrapping her legs around him.

Harry pushed in slowly, urging himself to think of nothing, everything, _anything_ but the hot, tight, wet feel of Hermione surrounding him. He stopped when he reached her barrier, opening his eyes to see how she was doing.

She was biting her lower lip, her arms clutching the bedspread tightly again. She stared up into him and gave a quick nod. He pushed past her barrier in a sudden move, a strangled cry emerging from her lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered frantically, but she waved him off.

"N-No . . . keep going . . . " she said, and he complied. He moved in long, slow strokes, already knowing that this was not going to last long at all. Her nails were lightly scraping along his back with each thrust, her legs wrapped firmly around him.

He willed himself to last longer, but when she sighed his name once again, he couldn't control himself. "H-Hermione," he said, taking in the way she looked underneath him. "I-I'm going to–"

"Do it, Harry," she whispered, and that's what unleashed him. He emptied himself inside of her, her name dancing along his lips. Breathing heavily, he rested on top of her, his head upon her chest, her arms wrapping themselves around him to hold him close. It was comforting, resting his head against the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the sound of her beating heart against his ears. Sleep began creeping its way up to him and something told him that it was going to be the best sleep he had in months.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered into the night, running her hands through his hair.

"Hmm?" he muttered sleepily. He sounded so tired, but Hermione swore that she heard a hint of a smile in that one noise. She smiled to herself, clutching him a bit tighter, warming at the feel of him clutching her tighter, too.

"'Night," she whispered, not even sure if he had heard her. Letting her eyelids close and rest take over her, Hermione let go of her worries for the time being. Nothing more needed to be said at that moment. She knew Harry, after all.

**END**


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